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The Lettered Set

“SOME people spin on their high heels,” Jill Kargman was saying the other day. “I spin on my paper.”

Ms. Kargman, the author of social satires like “The Ex-Mrs. Hedgefund,” out this spring, is not only conversant with the phrase “stationery wardrobe,” she has one of her own. It includes miniature raspberry-colored notecards with chocolate borders that say “Jill and Harry” (Harry is her husband), made by the Printery in Oyster Bay, N.Y., a century-old stationer from which she also orders white “empire”-size notecards with red borders and her initials; correspondence cards from Kate Spade printed with her first name; and pale gray sheets of writing paper with a white border from the Grosvenor Stationery Company in London.

“I draw the line at engraved stationery for my kids,” said Ms. Kargman, 35, who has three children under the age of 6, “though I know those that don’t.”

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Elizabeth Mayhew's stationery.Credit
Béatrice de Géa for The New York Times

In May, Mrs. John L. Strong, the 80-year-old luxury stationer favored by the Duchess of Windsor, Pat Nixon and Anna Wintour, was shuttered, a victim of the economy and an overly ambitious business plan that called for expansion. Some worried that its demise was the death knell of the hand-written, hand-engraved note, and that thereafter all correspondence would be digital, no longer composed at one’s desk at home, but in that weird placeless zone known as “Sent from my iPhone.”

But for stationery fiends like Ms. Kargman, as well as for social aspirants — the real-life counterparts to the characters in her novels — what are still called “social papers” are thriving, in spite of, or perhaps because of, the prevailing digital culture.

A clarification is in order: real “social papers” are not boxed cards with your initial from your corner stationer. Social papers are made with hand-cut dies, a universe of fonts and stock in shades like creamy ecru, tobacco or artichoke, to name a few of the offerings at the Printery.

It’s a habit that doesn’t come cheap: prices start at $350 for 100 of Dempsey & Carroll’s best seller, the No. 3 notecard; $500 will get you tissue-lined envelopes to match. Dempsey & Carroll, founded in 1878, opened a storefront on 74th and Lexington last fall, in the Upper East Side’s shopping sweet spot, next to Roberta Roller Rabbit, the resort wear purveyor. Its business held steady during the downturn last fall, said Jonathan Arnold, the general manager, and has increased 20 percent since Mrs. John L. Strong folded in May.

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COORDINATED Elizabeth Mayhews notecard collection reflects the colors of her home.Credit
Béatrice de Géa for The New York Times

Stationery aficionados say the cost is worth it: for the feel of the artisan’s hand — cutting the die, sliding the tissue into the envelope, feeding the printing press — married to the effort of one’s own hand.

“It’s a little flash of character and extra care,” said Celerie Kemble, a Manhattan designer who created a line of limited-edition stationery for Dempsey & Carroll last fall. “Using a card says, ‘You stopped me in my tracks and this comes from my heart.’ ” When you pair that idea with the choice of paper, font and ink — what Ms. Kemble called “a reinforcement of a decorative identity or a kind of personality stamp” — you have a memorable object, a keepsake.

ELIZABETH MAYHEW, a lifestyle expert for the “Today” show, is a paper hound so far gone she has filled a ceiling-high secretary with her collection. She described her stationery wardrobe, which is stocked with basics from Mrs. John L. Strong, Crane and Kate’s Paperie, as an extension of her personal style and design aesthetic.

“When you come to my house,” Ms. Mayhew said, “this is what you’re going to see.” Indeed, her Upper West Side apartment appears to be coordinated with some of her notecards, decorated in the same greens, chocolate browns and creams.

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Larry Gordon's notecard collection, made by the Printery, "is as diverse as my wardrobe of clothes," he said.Credit
Raeanne Giovanni-Inoue for The New York Times

But writing a note, she continued, involves more than “just thinking about my own style.”

“I really think about who I’m writing to and what they would appreciate, and I try to match that stylistically as best I can,” she said. “That process is such a different emphasis from writing a quick e-mail.”

Larry Gordon, a designer at Polo Ralph Lauren, reported spending hours with William Miller, who has been running the Printery since his grandmother left it to him in 1990, working out typefaces and papers and whether or not to abbreviate the word “apartment” in his address. (They ended up doing it both ways.) “My wardrobe of stationery is as diverse as my wardrobe of clothes,” Mr. Gordon said. “And don’t get me started on ink color. I have five different shades of navy.”

It’s hard not to see the product of so much effort as anything but a sincere gesture, perhaps the last sincere form of expression we have. But there are those for whom social papers are simply an expression of economic muscle, or a poignant example of social anxiety.

“We had a bride-to-be complain the bruise was not pronounced enough on her invitations,” said Mr. Arnold of Dempsey & Carroll, referring to the faint impression that appears on the back of an engraved card. Too deep a bruise, he explained, was the sign of a less-than-top-drawer printer. Still, he said, “she wanted people to know she had had her invitations engraved, so she had the 200 invitations all printed again, at her expense.”

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EXPRESSIONS Elizabeth Mayhew chooses her stationery to reflect her own style and to match that of the recipient.Credit
Beatrice de Gea for The New York Times

Mary Abbene, who runs the Printery with her husband, Mr. Miller, has had orders from couples who wanted to create stationery for thank-you notes to the admissions offices of prospective schools for their kindergarten-age child. “They wanted to show that they were united as a couple,” she said.

As vestiges of social anxiety remain, what about all the old rules, once an etiquette minefield? Anna Post, Emily Post’s great-great-granddaughter and the spokeswoman for the Emily Post Institute, said the No. 1 suggestion — “we don’t use the word ‘rule’ anymore” — regarding correspondence is this: “If you think you should be sending a thank-you note instead of an e-mail, then you should.”

There are guidelines for a gift, an elaborate dinner, a big favor or when you’re a houseguest, she said, “but it’s never wrong to send a thank-you note. It shows that you gave of your time — to choose the card, find the address, put it in the mail — and that you value the person enough to go through these steps.”

What she does not approve of are online companies like iomoi.com or redstamp.com, which hand-write thank-you notes for customers.

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Handmade notecards from the Printery.Credit
Raeanne Giovanni-Inoue for The New York Times

“The idea that my thank-you note is such a big deal it has to be outsourced just completely strips away any meaning it ever had,” Ms. Post said.

Helen Schifter, a contributing editor at Cookie magazine and a Manhattan society figure, has an extensive stationery wardrobe: French blue papers from Paris, Pineider cards for her daughter from Italy, notes from Mrs. John L. Strong from years ago (in fact, the company still has her die, she said). The granddaughter of an artist and calligrapher, she has ink in her blood.